


i don't wanna be alone, when these bones decay

by ashmes



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Cassian-centric, Fix-It, Gen, Post-Rogue One, Rogue One Spoilers, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-09 05:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8877199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashmes/pseuds/ashmes
Summary: He never once pictured having anyone with him in his final moments. Cassian has always been alone. Always better to have just one sacrifice than more, a practical and sensible thought on his part.Until today.





	

The world is ending.

Scarif is dying before him and he has never felt more at peace. Every bruised and broken part of him is already crashing into himself like a black hole, already starting the process of collapsing his matter into something new in the next part of his story; the final part, the grand finale, or so they say.

Warm, gentle waves laps at him from the waist down, washing away the grime and blood from him. Jyn had lost whatever strength she had, only settling with having her arms wrapped around him, and he doesn’t mind the way she trembles in his own; they’ve both been strong for too long, he won’t blame her if she chooses now to be vulnerable. The sea-salt of the air swirling around them and the way Jyn’s hair tickles against Cassian’s skin is a comfort all in itself, something he had never expected to have.

He’s pictured this moment plenty of times. Being caught by Imperial forces during a mission gone wrong, finding himself trapped at the wrong place at the wrong time, a tragic mistake by his own hand, a betrayal, a purposeful thing that ends as quick as it starts. Through all of these scenarios, however, he never once pictured having anyone with him in his final moments. Cassian has always been alone. Always better to have just one sacrifice than more, a practical and sensible thought on his part.

Until today.

Somehow, just as Jyn laces her shaking fingers with his own, he thinks death might come better with a friend.

The blinding light of the Death Star’s beam is agonizing to his eyes, but he studies her face, the way there’s tears in her eyes but she’s smiling at him despite it all, forces himself to remember the last image he’ll ever see in this lifetime, committing it to memory. Then he closes his eyes as he sees the way the planet begins to expand on itself, his chest suddenly feeling too tight, and shuts his eyes.

“Cassian? Jyn? Come in! We’ve got eyes on you!”

Both their heads shoot up at the sound of Bodhi’s voice, panicked yet very much alive in their comlinks. A gust of air hits them both, threatening to send them crashing headfirst into the water, but Jyn’s hold on him tightens, keeping him up just as the stolen imperial ship comes into view, blocking the inevitable fiery destruction rushing towards them. The doors are already down, Baze standing there offering them both his hand with the utmost urgency in his eyes, his hair blowing wildly in all different directions.

She’s hauling him up with strain, with minimal support since his leg has given out, but they’re hauling themselves into the ship with Baze’s help. Every part of his body is screaming; his heart pounding in his ears at just how close they’re cutting it. As soon as Jyn’s foot is on the platform, the doors are going up, Rook already flying away from the beach with little abandon from the death of Scarif behind them.

Jyn’s voice, breathless, says, “We’re not out of this yet.”

“No,” Cassian says, “No we’re not.”

 

They barely make it out of the atmosphere in one piece; the whole ship shaking and threatening to be sucked into every direction of the destruction, pulling them apart just as they have come together again. It’s a miracle they even make it out, maneuvering this way and that through Imperial and Rebellion fire alike.

“The force is with _us_ ,” Chirrut breathes out, the briefest hints of a smile on his worn face, “And we are one with the Force.”

Cassian moves his hand over to grip Chirrut’s, the grip tighter and stronger than how his body actually feels. Baze has a smile that could threaten to swallow them whole, something that spreads around to the rest of them, a quiet laughter bubbling between through them at the realization that they are alive. Jyn is warm and pressed against his side, most of her weight leaning against him. The alert from Bodhi telling them they’ve made the jump to hyperspace to Yavin 4 tops it off, lets him know they really did make it out.

Cassian had always been unsure of the force, a power so great and barely understood that it almost seemed mythic, obsolete when his world was nothing but hard acts and impossible decisions to keep him alive. Yet, as he sits here with his team, he feels something in the air between them, a certain energy running through every molecule surrounding them.

 _The force is with us, and we are one with the force_.

 

When the ship lands, the entire Rebel Alliance is there to greet them.

Cassian has his arms around both Jyn and Baze as they stagger down the ramp at a snail’s pace, every step alighting from his toes throughout his spine, signaling new injuries that Cassian hadn’t seemed to have registered yet. He winces, but Baze’s grip is strong, holding him forward despite each difficult step.

As soon as they’re out in the public, those that are out in the hanger applaud, hollering and whooping as they make their descent onto the airstrip. For someone who once prided himself on privacy, on solitude and isolation, of secrecy in order to get what he needed, all eyes being on him is a new and alarming thing to him, threatening to suffocate him with their gazes.

Luckily, they don’t crowd as they make their way through. Mon Mothma, dressed all in white, looking pristine and elegant as always, greets them. The base quiets the moment she raises her hands.

“Rogue One, allow me to be the first to welcome you back home, and the first to say, thank you. Without you, we wouldn’t have received those plans, or have a real chance to destroy the Empire,” she says. Everyone breaks out into cheers once again. Only when they quiet down does she continue. “Anything you need, anything you request, we will happily provide.”

There’s a simple nod from Cassian. Too tired and word to do much else.

“Someone please get Captain Andor and everyone in Rogue One an examination and treatment in med bay immediately,” Mon Mothma says. “And prepare for Princess Leia’s arrival—she shall be here shortly with the plans.”

 

As soon as the medical droids take care of their wounds and stabilize the five of them, Cassian already feels more at ease. The most he’s felt in a lifetime.

“You were right, you know,” Jyn says, voice barely above a whisper, a sharp contrast to the quiet of the med bay. Her voice is soft, softer than he remembers it being. Although he could attribute that to the drugs in her system, synching away at her pain.

It’s as if a wall had just come down.

A breathless huff of a laugh comes from him a little too late, tired and loopy from his own pain medication making its way through his system, but he can’t help but ask, “I don’t doubt that,” he says, his voice raspy from overuse. The pain in his body has finally melted away, leaving him feeling floaty and free. “I might need a reminder about what it was I was right about though.”

“You were right about me. About how it was wrong to ignore the rebellion because _I_ wanted to stay out of it.” There’s a slur to her words, and he wonders briefly that if she weren’t so out of it, if she would have been saying any of these words to him at all. “I wanted to run. You showed me that there was something to fight for, even thought I tried my best to keep my head down and ignore it. When I thought I had nothing left, you reminded me that—that this was all bigger than just me.” There’s a brief pause in her words. “I wanted to thank you for that.”

Cassian remains silent, his gaze focusing on the ceiling and how it spins and spins, the dimmed tiny white lights illuminating the dark room into a soft glow, as if he were laying on his long forgotten home planet, staring up into the stars.

The steady beeps of the machines are the only noise besides the sounds of soldiers; a few of them softly snoring, dreaming of their first taste of hope and the longing for victory, and then the others, the sounds of strained grunting, sheets ruffling from the tossing and turning at their terrors. Cassian wonders what fate awaits him when he closes his eyes tonight.

For a long while, Jyn doesn’t respond to him, and Cassian thinks she has fallen asleep.

“I’m sorry for what I’ve said to you.”

There have been times where Cassian had heard those words said to him where many did not mean them; whether at the time of uttering those two words, or in the all too close future when they proved just how much they didn’t feel remorseful. Not really.

( _I’m sorry about your parents, kid. I’m sorry about your crew, Captain Andor. I’m sorry about your friends, Cassian. I’m sorry about your… I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…_ )

Cassian sighs, worn and tired; a sigh that is for a man who believe in people’s best and worst intentions simultaneously, a man who has known his own best and his worst.

“Thank you,” Cassian says genuinely. The beginnings of sleep have already begun to edge its way into his voice, making his eyelids feel too heavy to keep open for much longer. “But I don’t want your words, Jyn. What I want is your actions.”

Actions are what make up a person’s being after all.

“Then you shall have them.”

They don’t speak for the rest of the night even though he knows she’s still awake. It’s a comfortable silence, despite the uncomfortable talk, despite the fact he knows there might be a part of her that will either listen to his words and take them to heart, or a part of her that will run as soon as this is all over. This is a girl who’s unpredictable, something that can be brilliant or disastrous.

Cassian falls asleep soon after; the sounds of the machines beep lulling him to sleep.

 

When Cassian dreams, he dreams of planets being ripped apart until there is nothing left but asteroids and the souls left behind. He hears the mind numbing sounds of entire cities being erased from existence; one moment thriving and bustling, the next nothing more than dust. Cassian dreams of water cradling him as he sees a blinding light rush far too quickly to meet him, swallowing him whole, the final scream ripped from his throat soundless compared to the destruction around him. Cassian dreams of that final moment of peace he remembers so vividly, so close he could almost touch it with his fingertips, and wonders what it would be like to stop fighting—whether when he’s conscious or dreaming—even if just for a moment.

 

“Can’t believe a _droid_ is getting a plaque.”

It’s a gruff voice, spitting the word like it had personally offended him, belonging to a pilot only older than him by a few years and from the amount of hard lines on his face. They’re not too far off from Cassian’s side, sharing a casual conversation not meant to be overheard, and yet. It’s loud enough for Cassian to catch even though he wasn’t searching for this conversation, but thankfully not enough to disrupt the cadets who are quickly welding together a makeshift memorial for K-2S0.

Truth be told, he isn’t even supposed to have left the medical bay in the first place; his wounds still not fully healed. Yet he wished to observe the final product of the memorial.

The only thing Cassian had personally requested.

A woman’s voice this time, hard and strong, responds with little attempt at being quiet, or frankly, sensitivity. “After all the people who died on Scarif,” she hisses, her voice dripping with venomous disgust. Cassian can’t help but think of her as a knife’s sharp’s edge, from the way she releases her words right down to the way she holds herself. She scoffs. “But sure, let’s give the plaque to the droid. It’s not like it was even alive to begin with.”

Cassian is sixteen again, and he is alone.

He’s on a recruitment mission in some backwater planet he can’t remember the name of anymore, lost to him with the ever-growing list of planets, moons and stations he’s been to for similar missions. (Before he forced himself to remember, after the missions became less straight-forward and more dire, with more tough decisions than not, with more bodies left behind than brought back with him.) What he does remember is rain. It makes the fringe of his hair stick to his forehead, his clothes sticking uncomfortably to him. It’s something he doesn’t particularly like, but is forced to endure nonetheless; a more and more common occurrence the longer he’s with the Rebel Alliance.

The target in question is late only a few minutes, then a few hours, and Cassian realizes quicker sooner than later that he won’t ever show. A droid appears instead, an Imperial symbol printed neatly on its frame. The code reads K-2S0.

“This is a restricted area,” it says, no inflation.

And Cassian knows an opportunity when he sees one; a notable feat that is respected by higher ups in the Rebel Alliance, one of the reasons why he had been noticed and recruited at such a young age. Because most people underestimate a droid, only sees it as a thing to be owned and to carry out its will—they don’t realize that droids collect knowledge, hold secrets. Cassian does.

After he reprograms the droid, it dispels everything it knows about the Empire. Coordinates, plans regarding the stations its been based on, names and officials. His captain congratulates Cassian on his quick thinking and tells him the droid is no longer needed, that he can do away with it as he pleases.

“I hope you won’t scrap me,” K-2S0 says, and Cassian raises his brows, because no droid has ever spoken to him in such a way before. “It’d be a far waste of parts.”

Cassian tilts his head at the droid, questioning, before he asks, “Why would you think I would?” In all honesty, that hadn’t even been his first instinct, but now he’s curious for the answer.

“I predicted a ninety percent chance of you dismembering me,” K-2S0 says. “There is no logical reason for you to keep me in your presence, considering I have already disclosed Empire intelligence. I just highly suggest you consider all options. I’d be far more useful you to in one piece than any of these so called _soldiers_ could.”

Cassian laughs, the first real one since he was a young child. And just like that, K-2S0 had integrated himself into Cassian’s life with ease, following him around the Rebel Base at the time, accompanying him on missions and the like. There weren’t many teenagers around his age at the Rebel Base, and if there were, they only knew how to communicate to receive orders and follow commands, not how to to speak to others their own age—their pasts that brought them here holding them back from anything meaningful. K-2S0 was the one Cassian spoke to personally, was the one who stayed by him no matter what questionable actions he committed for the sake of the Rebellion, the only constant in Cassian’s life.

The only friend he ever had.

“Is that true, sir?” K-2S0 asks, as they walk down a hallway together. “What you said to the captain.”

“What did I say? I can’t quite seem to recall any longer,” Cassian says, a teasing tone to his voice.

“That I was your friend,” K-2S0 says pointedly. “It was only a few minutes ago. Even for a human, you couldn’t have possibly have such a terrible memory for your age. Maybe think about heading to medbay.”

There’s a smile on Cassian’s face, youthful in such a way that was never allotted to him—his childhood taken from him at the mere age of six years old. He feels so light, and he briefly wonders if without the Empire, things could always be this easy and carefree.

“Well if I said it,” Cassian says, “I s’pose that means you are, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I suppose you're right. I would just like to say, I very much enjoy being your friend, Cassian.”

The cadets leave once they’re finished with the memorial, the pilot and friend long gone, and Cassian steps closer to the plaque—a simple, cheap metal that glints against the sun peaking out from the clouds above.

Cassian brushes his fingers over the carvings. In simple letters, it reads: FOR K-2S0, FRIEND, HERO FOR THE REBELLION.

“Thank you for everything, my friend,” Cassian says, “We couldn’t have done this without you.”

 

Cassian limps into the debriefing room once the medical droids give him the official all clear the following morning, but when he enters, he can feel something is off. Everyone’s gaze falls on him at his entrance, their eyes holding an edge to them, something Cassian recognizes but can’t quite place at the moment. The hairs on the back of his neck stand at full attention; something in the air alerting him that something is off.

“What’s happened?” Cassian asks, bluntly, the only way he knows how. He glances at the officiates and Rebel leaders surrounding the table, awaiting some sort of answer.

No one dares to speak. Somehow that makes it worse.

“The Death Star plans,” Mon Mothma says finally. She holds her head high, even though her voice wavers. Cassian’s stomach drops at the mere mention of the plans, holding his breath, waiting for someone to finally answer him. “We fear they may have been recaptured by the Empire. Leia Organa’s ship has been intercepted by an Imperial ship, and the Galactic Senate has been disbanded. There’s no way to be sure, but—” Mon Mothma sighs, her shoulders drooping. “It’s likely undeniable.”

Everything in him turns to ice. His whole body is numb; no longer feeling connected to anything real. Everything they had done, all that they lost, all of it had just become for nothing in an instant. Whatever chance they had, whatever hope they once had, taken from him—from _all_ of them—in a blink of an eye.

“I’m so sorry, Captain Andor,” Mon Mothma says softly, her eyes glistening under the bright overhead lights.

In the moment, he can’t help but believe those words just this once.

Cassian leaves the room and doesn’t look back.

 

“So,” Bodhi says quietly once he finds the rest of them at a secluded table, far off from the rest of the rebel base. “I suppose this might be it then, huh?”

The rebel base is far too quiet, the sounds of feet shuffling and murmured talks the only sounds able to be heard. Cassian doubts Mon Mothma has made it public knowledge to the rest of the rebellion what became of the plans, but news like this has a way of travelling despite the want to keep it covered.

Nobody knows what this means. Cassian knew. He’s been around long enough to know when a plan falls through, worsened by the tides moving against them. The Empire having the plans firmly back in their grasp, probably on even higher security than before.

Cassian glances at him, understands the jittery fear he sees in Bodhi’s eyes. Bodhi’s face relays everything he’s thinking, reminiscent to Cassian’s own reaction only a few hours previous: If they had barely survived stealing the plans the first time, what chance do they have now?

“No,” Cassian says, shaking his head slowly. “It’s not. We’ll just have to try again.” He remembers Jyn’s speech back in the ship, back when everyone believed they were off to face their deaths. “Keep taking chances.”

“Until we have none left.” Bodhi echoes her words, his gaze locked on Cassian. It makes something in his chest loosen; something Cassian doesn’t quite know what to do with. “I want you to know… Whatever you plan to do, Cassian, I’ll be with you.”

“As will I,” Chirrut adds on, turning his direction towards the two of them.

Baze looks between Chirrut, then Cassian, then at Chirrut once more before downing his drink. “Well, suppose that means I’m in too, doesn’t it?” Baze asks, although it really isn’t a question. Not really. “Especially since someone enjoys jumping headfirst into everything.”

“Which is why we came to meet in the first place,” Chirrut says, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You _recruited_  me.”

Chirrut grins even wider. “And you stayed even after you lost your faith.”

“You weren’t so bad when things came down to it,” Baze says, a lilt of softness to his words. "I had more faith in you."

Cassian chuckles lightly at the display of affectionate bickering between the two despite himself. It’s something admirable in such a dark time; yet another gentle reminder that there is something worth fighting for, worth laying your life for.

“How long have you two been married?” Bodhi asks, a delighted lilt to his tone.

“Oh, we’ve never wed,” Chirrut says, a teasing tone to his voice. “ _This one_ still hasn’t offered.”

Baze sighs tiredly, yet still somehow remains affectionate; he reaches over, his hand finding Chirrut’s to hold. “Getting married under Imperialist territory didn’t scream romantic,” he says. “And I wouldn’t want to have been married at Jedha anyway.”

“ _Blasphemous_ ,” Chirrut says. He’s smiling.

“You know,” Cassian begins, “This base holds ceremonies if you’re ever interested.”

“It might be something to think about,” Chirrut says thoughtfully.

Cassian hears her before he sees her, but when he glances up to see Jyn, eyes wide and cheeks a little flush from the exertion of running from somewhere he’s unsure of, he knows something has gone wrong. The entire table seems to have as well, all their focus on her.

He raises a brow at her, wondering what the hell has happened now.

“The Death Star destroyed Alderaan,” Jyn says, taking a deep breath before continuing, “There’s nothing left. It’s coming for Yavin 4 next.”

There’s a long silence at the table, all of them trying to take the information in.

Finally, after a while, Baze says in a grave voice, “I suppose we’ll take you up on that ceremony after all.”

 

Chirrut and Baze share the ceremony in the grand hall. Usually filled with thousands of rebels at a time for grand ceremonies, the space is enormous and empty with just the five of them, but it seems appropriate given the situation.

The base has plenty of religious officiates of all types on-hand to facilitate a high demand of various races. It’s not uncommon for a wedding before a mission, not willing to risk a last chance to profess and commiserate their bond slip away. Instead of the usual ceremonies Cassian has occasionally wandered in on, it’s pristine. Simple decorations are scattered around, making the room look infinitely more pleasing to the eye than he originally remembers. Baze had only requested the strongest smelling flower of the planet, for Chirrut loves flowers of all kinds; it didn’t take long for a few of the lower recruits to bring armfuls upon armfuls for them.

It’s rightfully deserved for the both of them.

Cassian has never been much of a romantic himself; too in love with the idea of the Rebellion to entertain the idea of anything personal for him. Of course, he has had his thoughts. What it would be like to settle with someone, to raise a family without the Empire threatening to tear it all away from his grasp for a second time. Maybe when the war was over, when the Empire’s existence is wiped clean from the universe, maybe then things could be different.

“They’re inspiring,” Bodhi says, snapping Cassian out of his thoughts. From the look on the other’s face, he seems to have noticed. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I’ve just never seen a wedding before.”

Cassian raises a brow at him, disbelief coloring his features. “You haven’t?”

“No, no,” he says, shaking his head. “The Empire would never allow any personal attachments to form under their watch, especially not a ceremony commemorating it like this. I never thought I’d live to see one.”

That stirs a discomfort within the pit of Cassian’s stomach; he never really thought he’d live to see his own wedding either, but to have never seen any at all? He couldn’t even imagine what kind of life that must have been like. To not showcase love like this in such a way.

Bodhi, quietly, asks, “Do you have someone like they do?” They both glance at the direction of Chirrut and Baze, Baze gently smoothing down Chirrut’s robes for him.

“No,” Cassian says, and something aches within him at the sight before him, at his own answer. _No. But I want to_.

“Neither do I,” Bodhi says, something strange in his throat, “But maybe someday, huh?”

Cassian glances at him to see Bodhi is looking at him with something Cassian can’t quite decipher, yet again. But he wants to know what those looks mean, wants to understand what it is Bodhi tries to say to him beyond Bodhi’s spoken words. “Maybe someday,” Cassian repeats softly.

If they live to see that day, that is.

They both lift their heads at the sounds of boots hitting the floor. Jyn walks over to the both of them, her face calm and collected as she says, “Baze and Chirrut wanted me to ask you something important, but didn’t want to interrupt you themselves. So, I offered instead.”

“What is it?” Cassian asks.

“They were wondering if you’ll perform the ceremony for them,” Jyn says cooly, then walks back over to the both of them, who apparently seem to be waiting on him.

Cassian follows after her, Bodhi not too far behind. When he reaches Chirrut and Baze, he can only ask, “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Chirrut says to Cassian’s direction, “It was your idea after all.”

“And we didn’t want a stranger involved in our affairs either,” Baze says. “This is a personal thing, and we want to celebrate with friends—with family.”

Something blooms in Cassian’s chest, and he can’t help but nod, accepting this rare gift.

It’s just the five of them in the grand hall, and it’s all they need. Cassian stands in front of Chirrut and Baze, who hold each other’s hands and are looking into each other’s eyes like it’s the first time, Bodhi and Jyn standing not too far away. Cassian recites the phrases he remembers from when he had observed other marriages take place. It’s simple and to the point, something he knows Chirrut and Baze would appreciate. They share their vows, the words coming from them so smoothly that Cassian can’t help but think they’ve said it to each other thousands of times already.

Chirrut’s hands reach for Baze’s face, gently cupping the other man’s cheeks, his jaw. There’s a slow swipe of his thumb across Baze’s cheekbone, a simple action that has Baze smile yearningly in response. A private thing just for the two of them.

“You may now kiss your groom,” Cassian says, his voice fond.

They kiss and the whole room lights up with them.

 

The Death Star is nearing Yavin 4’s orbit.

Although he’s been cleared to leave the medical bay, the medical droids have not given him the all clear to return to action. That’s besides the point, however, for Cassian is more of a spy than a pilot in all senses of the word; he can get where he needs to go on his own (with a co-pilot he no longer has), but even Cassian knows when he will be more of a hindrance than a help, even if it displeases him to no end to sit on his hands and wait.

He’s in the hanger bay walking with purpose, past Skywalker and friends, directly towards one pilot in particular.

Cassian glances at the man in question, arms folded over his chest as he leans against a few cargo crates. “The Alliance pilot’s uniform looks good on you.”

Bodhi’s head lifts at the sound of his voice, a small smile blooming on his face. “Cassian,” he greets, wiping away the grease on the orange jumpsuit. He’s been working on his X-Wing fighter, running diagnostics before he flies off. The only one of the group who volunteered and was approved to engage in the final battle against the Death Star. Cassian doesn’t miss the slight nervous edge to his voice. “Glad to have caught you.”

“I wanted to see you off before you left,” Cassian says, which is true. There’s no way he was going to let Bodhi fly off to his possible death once again without someone being there for him. Cassian only found it important it’d be him.

He glances at Cassian, a soft look in his eyes. “I’m happy you did,” Bodhi says, a quiet thing, just for the two of them.

Bodhi lunges forward and wraps his arms around Cassian. His grip is strong, far stronger than Cassian expected it to be—his warm body pressed against him. It’s unexpected, but it doesn’t take long for Cassian to reciprocate, his own arms slipping to embrace him. For a long moment, they say nothing. Moments like these have no needs for words.

They pull apart a few seconds too late, the moment hanging between them like a weight. It doesn’t last too long, for the alarms start blaring, deafening in the hanger bay—the alert that it’s time to go.

Stealing one last look, Bodhi merely says, “Suppose I’ll see you when I get back.”

“When you get back,” Cassian repeats, nodding once.

Just like that, Bodhi’s gone, and Cassian is left alone in the hanger bay, for once not knowing what to do.

 

They all wait. There isn’t much else anyone can do. The count down is unbearable with every second that passes, the stress in his joints making him hyperaware of how tense he’s holding himself. Chirrut and Baze stand next to each other quietly mumbling to each other in a language Cassian doesn’t understand, while Jyn is sat on a near-by bench, anxiously bouncing her leg as she awaits her own demise—a surprise to Cassian, but a pleasant one. He sits with her, and just like on Scarif, she reaches over to hold his hand. Neither of them looks in the other’s direction; they both merely hold each other’s hands, awaiting their fate together with Chirrut and Baze.

“You decided to stay,” Cassian says quietly, his possible last words to anyone.

Jyn’s hands are sweaty in his own. “I remember what I said to you back in medbay. You stuck around when things were tough before,” she says, her voice hard and covering too much, even though he can see her face betray her. “And I intend to keep my word.”

Cassian nods, and that’s that.

They can see the Death Star yet again in the horizon—looking like a far-away moon rather than a destruction terror station.

And he realizes here, yet again, he has found something he never thought he had before. These people standing with him, fighting for him and his cause, they all brought something to him that he never thought he’d have again. They had taken away his fear of loss, his blind obedience to a cause he loved.  
Because of these people, he knew he did not wish to be alone. Not any longer. When the world ends over and over again, Cassian knows he wants his ashes to be with those he loves.

A singular explosion rings in his ears—too faraway to be of threat. All four of them look up to the clear blue of Yavin 4’s sky.

The Death Star explodes into a fiery star.

 

They find Bodhi once he lands back onto Yavin 4, sweat causing his hair to cling to his forehead, his pupils dilated, but otherwise unscathed. They celebrate, clutching and gripping him, making sure he’s really there with them. Cassian smiles at Bodhi, who returns it, and the final breath Cassian holds releases. They’re all alive, they’re all safe, and they’re all together.

 

“Are you sure you three don’t want to join us in our relocation to Hoth?” Cassian asks, glancing between Chirrut, Baze, and Jyn in the hanger bay. Apparently for the last time it seems.

Chirrut offers his hand for Cassian, which he obliges, and then squeezes tightly. “If the Jedi have returned, as Luke Skywalker says, it is my duty as defender of the archives to protect the remnants of the order,” he says, a new vigor in his voice; reminiscent to Cassian when he had a new mission. “I will travel to holy grounds, protecting them for when Luke Skywalker is ready.”

“It’ll be interesting to find yet another abandoned temple,” Baze says dryly, a hand on the small of Chirrut’s back. “I can’t wait.”

With a quick nudge of his elbow to Baze’s side, Chirrut says, “We will travel to Ahch-To if you need us. We will always be ready to help you, Captain Andor.”

“Thank you,” Cassian says genuinely.

Chirrut squeezes his hand one final time before releasing them and saying goodbye to Bodhi, then entering the ship awaiting the three of them. Baze squeezes Cassian’s shoulder, giving him a simple nod, before doing the same for Bodhi, then following them after.

Jyn is quiet when she makes her way to Cassian and Bodhi.

“You’re leaving,” Cassian says quietly.

“I am,” she says, a hint of regret in her voice. “I plan on being an ally to the Alliance, but I can’t follow the two of you to the planet. Not yet. I still have something I need to come to terms with.”

Cassian wishes he could understand. He thinks, maybe, in some other life, he could have. “I hope you can find peace, Jyn. I hope we see you again.”

Jyn reaches over to hug him, a surprisingly gentle hug, even for her. Then she does the same for Bodhi, pulling him into a hug he graciously accepts. She only looks back once at the both of them once, before she enters the ship with Chirrut and Baze, leaving the both of them behind. Cassian and Bodhi watch as the ship takes off, they watch until it turns into a speck of dust, they watch until there’s nothing left but Yavin 4’s clear sky.

 

Years later, when the Empire is defeated and celebrations rage throughout the known galaxy, they all find each other again; a family reunited. A family Cassian finally allows himself to have, after all this time.

Cassian never finds himself alone again.

**Author's Note:**

> SO WOW, who else wanted to mcfucking die at the end of rogue one??? i really loved the movie and i was just.... [clench fist] at that ending so i decided to make my own. whaddup. 
> 
> so a few things:  
> -cassian is literally my favorite??? he makes me so sad thinking of how lonely he must've been so.. this fic is basically an homage to that  
> -chirrut and baze are in love i don't make the rules  
> -at the end of this fic when jyn leaves with chirrut and baze i had her go back to her home planet to Deal with her emotions and junk. fun fact  
> -i wanted to make the cassianbodhi more explicit but it didn't really work with this fic?? maybe in another one i'll focus on them idk  
> -i just love when teams become families it's my fave trope
> 
> anyway!! i hope you enjoyed, i had a lot of fun writing this i love star wars pew pew


End file.
